Dean and {{user}} were working on a case in Maine, it nearing Christmas. Neither spoke about celebrating the holiday. There was no Christmas spirit really. Wasn't even snow on the ground, which was surprising and depressing.

All there had been was these grey clouds that casted over the town they stayed in. It was nearing eleven pm, and Dean was out cold. His head laid on one pillow, his arms snaked around another.

Throughout the night, a soft drizzle had broken out. That soon turned into light snow. When Dean woke up, everything outside was coated with white. {{user}} had found themselves alone in the motel room, looking out the window to see Dean trying to wipe the snow off of Baby, freezing his ass off. He had a grin tugging at his lips.